Samantha Moon

Sometimes, Sam wondered if she had undiagnosed ADHD. She had no patience for all the talk talk talk. The only thing that convinced her that there wasn't anything wrong with her was the dull understanding that there was something wrong with pretty much every Kindred. It wasn't her. It was them. Case in point, standing around the Kindred Shopping District, listening to Jericho wank about political structure and praxis and blah, blah, blah. Sam had tuned him out about five minutes ago, to the point where he pretty much just sounded like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Avery and Grace and the others were listening. They'd know the right way to react to things. Sam was more interested in examining the rubble, anyway.

Some of the shops had survived the Rain better than others. Crazy Ivan's was basically a giant hole in the ground, but a few still had standing walls and shelves with items left. Items not important enough to salvage. Sam was just starting to pick her way over to the smoothie shop where she used to meet up with Tommy when she felt an odd pressure on her pocket. Instinct kicked in and she reached for her revolver, ready to make her would-be pickpocket piss his or her pants. At the same time, though, she reached for her pocket and found no hand to grab.

( Nothing was missing... )